Pool Boy
by GwenStacy
Summary: AU. Rory Gilmore Hayden lives the rich life. Parties, satin dresses, and pool boys. Her pool boy though, is special. Complete.


**Pool Boy **

**Disclaimer: **Do I even seem like AS-P?

**Summary:** AU. Rory Gilmore-Hayden lives the rich life. Parties, satin dresses, and pool boys. Her pool boy though is special. He's Jess Mariano. LIT.

**A/N: **A random idea. Hope you like it. Sorry if you are waiting for another chapter of 'Café Visitors'. I'm working on it.

---

Blue eyes, the color of the sea, stare out the bay window lost in a dream world where no one but she ever goes. Voices draw near, and the girl, seventeen, can hear them at the edge of consciousness. She blinks; the coal lashes dark against porcelain skin. She glances back down at her book trying to remember what was happening. Did the man find his wife? Or was he dead? Was she even on this page? She sighs and tries to return to her world by watching the fountain in the front yard with its clear water falling into cold, gray stone. It doesn't work. The voices are closer now. They are talking about her.

"Mom, she's fine."

"Really Lorelai, how can you say that? All she does is sit around and read or stare out a window. Look, there she goes again. Rory? Rory come here. Rory? Lorelai Hayden come here this instant!"

Rory Gilmore-Hayden obediently follows her grandmother's call into the hallway. Her eyes still wander, her pink lips set in a straight, serious line. She doesn't remember the last time she smiled. It's even harder to remember the last time she laughed. When Rory sees her mother, the other Lorelai Gilmore-Hayden; a brush of love crosses her heart. Her mother hates this place, this life as much as she herself does.

"Lorelai?" asks Emily Gilmore harshly. "Please tell your daughter she needs to do something productive."

Lorelai looks hesitantly between her mother and her daughter. Her mother is looking at her expectantly with cold eyes. She shivers. Lorelai turns to her daughter. Oh her baby! It tore her up living like this. Living in the life she tried to escape. Rory is watching the big hand on the old ornate grandfather clock slowly tick by as the pendulum swings. _Tick, Tock, Swish, Tock, Tick, Swish, Tick…_

"Rory," Lorelai murmurs, "You're grandma thinks that doing nothing isn't going to get you into Yale…or Harvard," she adds quickly. "How about today you go swimming. That'll be fun. I can join you or we can call up Paris?"

Rory knows there is no getting out of this. It is just swimming she tells herself. They're not making you join some tennis club. A slight smirk barely finds away to her lips. Her and tennis would never mix. The smile fleets off quickly. "Ok. No friends. I'll swim alone."

Lorelai bits her lip and looks over to Emily. Her mother has already headed over to the drink cart. "Ok, kid. Sure."

Rory walks away. She made it back in her dream world.

---

She hasn't taken a dip yet. She took too long getting ready and Emily says that the pool boy is coming, so she has to wait until after he is gone. Emily made her stay out though so she could 'get some color in her cheeks' with a light white robe over her metallic royal blue one piece. It is modest. She picked out the style and Lorelai picked the color. Emily thinks it is gaudy; the reason for the robe. It is hot and dots of sweat line her forehead and upper lip. Rory begins to want to go swimming just to get away from the heat. She swings her body off the chair in a minor mood of happiness.

It's too late. A boy comes in carrying the equipment needed to clean the pool. She sits back down in haste and tries to cover any bare skin up. He doesn't notice her, and she watches him silently. When he is done putting everything down he turns and spots her. His eyes flick from hers to her scantly clad form then back again.

"Hey," he smirks.

Rory finds his attitude disagreeable. Her chin lifts defiantly and she wraps her arms more tightly around her self as if to shield herself from anything evil radiating off of him. "You aren't Eric."

"Nope. What? Were you having an affair with this last pool boy?" he asks, his voice sharp with wit.

Her cheeks flame pink, and she looks down in embarrassment. Her words come out weak and worn as if they aren't used much. Come to think of it, she really never has anything to say. "No."

He feels a pang of sadness for the pretty girl with eyes bluer than the California sky. He chooses softer words for her now. "Huh." Soft, real, soft. Rory looks at him carefully judging what to do next, but he speaks first. "You can stay. I only work here."

"No, it's ok. I'll leave in a…" it dies on her lips. She stays in her seat, and picks up a JANE magazine. He walks away and picks up the net. He swirls it in the water catching leaves like butterflies. Finished minutes later with that, he cleans the filters and the water's surface a second time after a strong breeze blew more leaves over his handy work. Rory watched as the red, brown, orange leaves swirled in the cool water mesmerized by simple beauty. The day is still like a furnace and soon the boy peels off his shirt that is soaked with sweat.

He concentrates on his work and Rory peeks at him over her magazine, her eyes gliding over the movement of muscle sleek with sweat. An hour later from when he started he pulls his shirt back on and announces he's done. "Ready for you."

Rory almost dives right in, ready to be consumed in icy waters that would relieve her more so from the heat inside her than the sun's harsh rays. She pauses at the edge waiting for him to leave so she can discard of her robe. He just stands there, leaning against the stonewall of her home. "What?" she asks.

"What's you're name?"

"Rory."

"Jess."

"Hi."

"Hi." Jess peels his eyes from hers and she blushes for what seems the billionth time today because she had been staring. "Bye Rory."

"Bye Jess," she tells him back her voice barely above the wind that has picked up now. The sun falls behind light gray clouds and it seems more like autumn instead of summer. The air cools 10 degrees it seems. She watches as he disappears to stow away supplies, and go off somewhere where he has a life much greater than hers. Rory takes off the ivory robe and throws it on her pool chair over her magazine and let's herself fall into the pool.

The waters are as cold as she suspected and they surround her, caressing her, little fingers brushing her body. She finds it peaceful; watching the sun flutter beneath the blue and the cloud that it tries to hide behind attempting to look threatening. Light glares against the surface, but where she is it dances and moves like a princess's golden hair in a storybook. How long has she been under? The edges of her vision begin to have a red tint and she faintly feels her body trying to pull oxygen from other sources. It starts shivering, almost convulsing and a little stream of bubbles flows from her nose. She likes this feeling. She feels as if she is trying to stay alive. Swim up; break surface, deep breath of sweet air. So this is what feeling alive actually feels like.

The chlorine, freshly inserted, stings her eyes and a small paper cut she had gotten the day before. In the corner of her eye she sees dark hair leave the area. Rory falls back under. She doesn't feel alive any longer.

---

"Why did you fire Eric?" asks Rory following her mother almost stepping on her heels.

Lorelai looks up from the white and silver invitations she was taking to the study to answer, "My mother."

"Isn't it always."

"Yes," sigh, "She said that he looked at her funny and that it was too suggestive for her tastes, so she killed him off the soap opera called the Gilmore's and the Hayden's."

"Too bad," Rory grins. Lorelai caught it and stops in her tracks. "What?"

Lorelai cracks a smile that lights up the whole room, "Rory, baby, you just smiled." Rory's smile just gets wider.

---

She is sitting at the edge of the pool, looking down at her wavering reflection. Colors meld into each other swirling and curling, pulling at the blue edges. In the distance she hears her father calling her name. She doesn't answer. Why should she? He'll forget about her in a minute. Go back to drown in his own depression. Another figure joins hers in the mirrored world. She looks up at reality unsure of what to say.

"I need to work," he says quietly.

Rory nods and gets up, her legs dripping. The breeze presses the droplets to her skin and it gets cold. She smiles shyly at him, not even understanding why. He gives an uncertain smirk back to her as if he is confused by her simple action. Rory is self-conscious again. She sees a book peeking from his pack that he brought with him and she saunters over with every last bit of confidence she has and takes it out. "Inherit the Wind," she reads. "Good book."

"I know."

"You've read it before?"

Jess leans back to rest on the outdoor table, "Yes. I do read. Actually I have a high reading level."

"Third grade," she teases.

"Fourth," he moves his body forward in fake conspiracy, "Moved from Dr. Seuss straight to Sarah Plain and Tall. We had a quiz on it to pass the tenth grade and I didn't get all those big words, so I took the answers right off the teachers desk."

"Terrible."

"Oh yea. When she found out, no gold stars for me." Rory laughs. Her eyes bulge and she stops the musical sound abruptly. "You ok?"

Rory gave a tentative smile and nodded, "Yes. It's just…I haven't laughed in a long while."

"Well then, glad to be of assistance." He walks away in a certain rhythm that expresses he doesn't want the conversation to end. His eyes harden as he looks in the direction of her house, no, mansion. He curses mutely under his breath. Rory's eyes take the path of his and she backs away from him into rocks landscaping that prick her feet painfully. She whirls around and leaves Jess. The little pieces of rock stuck to her foot individually fall off, the pain growing less and less noticeable.

She walks into the kitchen, greeted by the smell of dinner baking in the oven by a new nameless chef, because last time Emily stayed for dinner the lamb chops were too "under cooked" for her sensitive taste buds, so Gracie was fired. As was Lucy, Janet, Maria, and Camilla. It wasn't even fair to think of the maids.

Lorelai sits in a straight-backed chair in the formal living room. It's the only chair that can actually be sat on, its crimson velvet cover only ten years old not 200. Her eyes stare straight ahead, unmoving. Her voice cuts through silence like a steel blade, glinting with worry. "Who is he?"

"The new pool boy. Jess."

Lorelai peels her eyes from the _Starry Night _replica to rest on her daughter's pale skin of her forehead. When has it become so difficult to talk to her only and beloved daughter? "What were you all talking about?"

Blue gazes out the window watching strong arms work, "Books."

"Oh," Lorelai says. "When did you meet him?"

"Last week."

"Oh," she repeats. She notices her hands have gotten a bit too soft. They are the hands of a person who has never had hard labor in their life, acquiescent, spongy, and pink. The lines never calloused. She thinks she needs blisters. "Grandma is having another big, elite bash in a few weeks. No Boy George or CCR music to be allowed. After last times Bon Jovi karaoke with the senator, Mom had to personally apologize with his secretary. Too bad. I was hoping to go crazy with "Proud Mary" with the Pope."

Rory smiles brightly, "That would be something."

"Yea it would, wouldn't it," Lorelai hummed the edges of her lips twitching. She stops staring at her forehead and travels downward to baby blues. She almost cries. Her daughter's not drowning anymore.

---

"Does the water really need to be cleaned three times a week?"

"Nope."

"Then why are you here?"

"Wanted to talk to you."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because I need to get you to enjoy Hemingway."

Rory gives an adorable little pout, with the sunlight splaying around her head, catching the free flowing chestnut hair as if caught in a golden hand. Three weeks at this house. Seven visits. He still can't get over how perfect she looks. "Never." He smirks because he knows it is true. Seven days and he's struck up a friendship that blows every other relationship he's had (or tried too have) out of the water. "Where do you live?"

"In a shoe," he retorts playfully.

"Silly rabbit," she tells him, "Your not an old woman. Unless…"

Jess gets a mischievous smile on his face; "I can prove my manliness to you if you want." Rory reddens quickly and shakes her head with force. The gold mirrors of hair blind his eyes.

"Really," she inquires sensitively.

"Really?" he wipes his face down with his hands. They are rough and calloused after many pages turning. "I'm from New York, but my mom sent me to live with my uncle in a nutcase town straight from hell."

"Strange festivities to mark every holiday in all the world, unicorns, bunnies, and rainbows litter the window shops, and everyone says 'Hello Bob. How's the kids?'" she giggles.

His right brow rises, "You been there?"

"In my dreams."

"Nightmares."

"Jess…"

"Don't do that little whiney voice thing," he tells her. She grins at him. "What about you. What's Rory's story? The third time I met her I figured out she loved literature. The fourth time I found out she was crazy about the Clash and The Ramones. I want to know more."

Rory glances at the pool reflecting them. Her mother is with her grandma shopping for the party. Her father is away on another business trip. She is alone and happy that her moves are not being watched with eyes narrowing in distaste. She wonders why she feels compelled to open up to this boy with deep, careful brown eyes and a crooked bottom lip. Maybe it is because he is the first _real_ person she's met in years. "Ok. My mom had me at sixteen with my dad. Duh. The parents made them get married and my dad had to work in my grandfather's company. My mom hosts parties and sips tea and picks out wallpaper. I go to Chilton Preparatory, one of the best high schools in the country and I plan to go to Harvard and become a journalist. If I don't do that then I am destined to a life of satin dresses and Pride and Prejudice."

"Do you have your Mr. Darcy?" Jess poses indifferently making the mood change.

"Yes," she whispers.

"Oh." They fall quiet as if a warm, wet blanket has fallen over them smothering thoughts and words, so that they choke on them. Jess tries to stick his head out from underneath the wool. "What's his name?"

"Logan."

"Logan…"

"Huntzburger," she says more confidently.

Jess scratches his eyebrow in nervousness. He's sorry he took this path. The fabric is drenched and the heat is climbing. "Like as in newspaper mogul?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Do you love him?"

Silence. "Yes."

"Huh."

Rory is also choking on the blanket. Jess, in her mind's eye, is a shadow in the distance. She wants him to come back. "What's your story?" Jess looks at her with a sort of suspicion. He is hesitant to answer.

His voice reverberates on the pool tile, the water shimmering in the light and in the vibration. "My dad walked out as soon as I was born. Went to go get diapers and never returned." His voice is barely above a whisper and Rory can see it pains him to pull this out. She can see it is unusual for him to talk like this. She feels warmth to know he is showing her his scars. His blistered hands. "My mom and I lived with various boyfriends. I did shit in school just to piss her off. I hated that she would get up and leave for a guy, but couldn't make my first grade Thanksgiving play or my eighth grade graduation ceremony. I acted up, got into some crap, and got sent to live with my uncle."

"I'm sorry."

"What's there to be sorry for?"

She doesn't have an answer for that. Maybe that he wasn't happy. Or maybe that he didn't have anyone to love him. The water laps at their feet. The light from the sun is reflected in the water, which in turn is reflected in her eyes. How blue they are!

Jess bluntly asks, "Do you ever feel like you are drowning?"

She looks at him in trepidation, "Excuse me?" _Yes._

"Simple question, Rory. Do you ever feel like you are drowning? All the merrymaking, the polite conversations, and the Nicole Kidman actions."

"Stepford Wives," she responds calmer knowing what to tell him. "No…yes." Ok maybe not. "I feel like I am in a dream. That I'll wake up in somewhere like your town, and drink chocolate milk while watching cartoons with my mom and my dad would work at home. That I won't have all the chlorine getting in my eyes." Rory motions with her hands and Jess follows them.

There is yet another suspension in dialogue. Finally Jess says, "I think I'm drowning too."

---

The sleek Jaguar automobile rolls down the highway a few mph more than the speed limit allows. Hands of Christopher Hayden clutch the steering wheel tightly as he hears his mother-in-law yell at his wife. "Lorelai! How could you get us lost? It's really much to easy to read a map," Emily yells.

"Mom," Lorelai tries, "I told you three times before we left that I am no good at reading maps. The Goonie kids are way better than me."

"Goonie?! Goodness Lorelai stay on the subject here. We really need those champagne glasses to make the evening go smoothly. Without them…"

"Grandma!" Rory interrupts to the surprise of the other passengers. "There is a town coming up. See? We will stop somewhere to eat and ask for directions. Ok? Is everyone fine with that?" They all nod their heads meekly. It has been tiresome. They pass a "Welcome to…" sign, and Rory smiles. She can already see the small town madness that she reads about in her books. Chris drives to the center of town. Spotting an 'Al's Pancake World' he is about to point, but he already sees Emily's nose shrivel in distaste. He finally stops at a diner.

"How quaint…" Emily drones.

Lorelai is almost brimming with delight, "A real diner! I've never eaten in a real diner! I wonder if they have those cute little uniforms and great pie!" Rory laughs along with her mom. She agrees. She loves it when her mother gets these moments to spread her quirky wings. Obviously her grandmother doesn't share the same pleasure.

"Let's dine and leave," the eldest Gilmore replies.

They walk in with the light tinkle of bells announcing their presence. Lorelai squeals in delight, and walks out and then in again listening. Rory has to pull her mother away from the new and exciting chiming door. Watching the sharply dressed newcomers is the owner of the establishment. He sighs knowing that they are probably Hartford people and will expect 5 star services. Five star service his ass. Also watching them in curiosity are the regular patrons, whispering behind tilted cups.

"What can I get you all?" asks a man in a backwards baseball cap and flannel after the four were seated at a table near a window. Looking quickly through their menus they figure what exactly they want (even without the greatest selection according to Emily) and place their orders.

"A Caesar Salad, fresh lettuce tops with walnuts finely chopped and some chilled water please."

"To drink an iced tea. To eat a chicken sandwich, hold the mayo."

"A cheeseburger with fries and some bacon, because I don't remember when I last had bacon, and chicken strips, because that man over there is eating them and they look so good, and some apple pie, because I love pie, and ice cream. If you have any of course. If you don't it is just fine. Oh! And I'll have coffee to drink, because I love my coffee. Please."

"Coffee, please, and I'll share with her."

The man holds his pad in pen in awe and stares at the pretty woman in front him. "You want anything else?" he crustily asks.

"No, that's all…"

"Luke."

Lorelai smiles openly at him enjoying the crazy manner she is acting and the look she is receiving from this diner man. She almost giggles while saying, "Thank you, Duke."

"Luke."

"That's what I said…Duke," she replies calmly. Luke rolls his eyes and walks away to yell to the cook the orders.

Emily sits, astounded by her daughter who is still looking after the man while her husband texts work. "That was most regrettable Lorelai. I can't believe you even acted that way. And all the food you got! Surely you can act your age." Both Lorelai and Rory find each other's eyes and share a silent snicker. They know that she has broken the rusty lock that trapped her in her cage. Whether it is because her daughter is waking up after a long nap or if it is just time, Lorelai Victoria Gilmore-Hayd…Gilmore was ready to fly.

"Mother I try too and," it is too hard for her to resist, "don't call me Shirley."

"Oh god," Emily moans.

---

"So Duke, do you have ice cream?"

"Yup."

"Are you going to get it?"

"No."

"Why not—ah coffee," she takes a sip of the freshly poured brew. "Dear Jesus, man, what are you? This stuff is," bigger sip, "from heaven. Try it Ror!"

Rory picks up her light green cup and tilts it to her tiny mouth. Dark liquid passes her tongue and falls nicely down her throat. It is heaven. "More!" she cries, and dives back into her cup. Her mother and she had a coffee addiction that went to buying coffee beans from the gardener behind Emily's back. If anyone knew coffee, they did.

"Well," Luke stutters uncertainly. "Thank you. Your food will be ready in a minute."

As said, minutes later food magically appears at their table. Four plates for Rory and Lorelai, a small bowl for Emily, and an equally tiny plate for forever-working Christopher. He gets off his blackberry to take a bite. After saying thank you and pleadings for more heaven (coffee) they lapsed into a silence. They hear conversations around them. They all had a seemingly similar topic. The loudest came from their side of the room.

"That boy is a menace. My best worker Dean told me that he gets into fights with many boys at school. Our children deserve to be safe. He needs to go back with his mother," speaks a balding man in a wool vest and light slacks.

A rather large and obviously daring woman answers back, "Taylor, darling, the kid is a kid. He's bound to get into trouble now and then. He's the most excitement we've had in a while, and the greatest tush I've seen in years. I could look at him all day."

An older blonde agrees, "Patty's right Taylor. The kid needs a family and Luke here is all he's got. Plus," she giggles raspy, "I saw him wet afta Luke supposedly pushed him in the lake. We can't let that kinda art get away from us."

"Just because he is pleasing to the eye doesn't mean we should let him stay," says a man with scratches all over his face. "I might be forever scarred after Cat Kirk's mood swing today, and then I'll lose whatever sex appeal I had before." He turns to Lorelai with an innocent look on his face. "Do you, woman I've never met, think I'm still sexy?"

Lorelai stares at him shocked while Luke barks a, "Shut up, Kirk." His face red, with his blue eyes blazing. He's heard all they had to say. "My nephew is staying. He might not be the best kid, hell he ain't even a decent kid, but he's family and he needs my help. So the least you all can do is except the fact that he's here…and will once in a while vandalize your property." Emily mutters something about decency and service while Lorelai and Rory look approvingly at Luke. "Now eat or leave," he finishes.

---

Licking the last of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and asking for the billionth time if Luke was sure that the directions he gave them we were correct, they are ready to leave to the establishment. Rory leads the way to the door when she remembers her purse that she left on the seat. She runs back to get it just as a figure immerges from a curtain in a corner of the diner. "Hey Luke, have you seen my L.A. Guns CD? I need it for…" he trails off looking at bright sapphire eyes he thinks about all the time.

"Hi," she practically squeaks.

"Hi," he smirks.

"Hi," Rory dumbly repeats.

"Hi," reiterates Jess just to spite her.

She cries out, "Bye," and leaves before he can say anything else. The townspeople look curiously from the Hartford rich girl running to her car where her family is awaiting; to their hometown hoodlum staring at her leaving form.

"Never mind," he mutters and retreats back into the apartment upstairs.

---

"Who was that young man?" questions Emily.

"No one."

"No one?"

"Our pool boy."

Emily nods slowly remembering this bit of information, "Oh yes. Dreadfully dressed boy. Aren't you glad to have Logan."

"Of course Grandma," sighs Rory.

---

She loves it here she decides. And that town, Stars Hollow, too. Except, this place, near the cool waters is easier to reach. She stretches beside the deep end contemplating whether or not she has time for a dip. She slips in without so much as a splash. The familiar feeling washes over her cleansing her. Something bumps into her. She swims up quickly and sputters, "Jess!"

The boy grins holding a net, "I didn't notice you. Just doing my job."

"I suppose I looked like a rather large leaf."

"Nope, I thought you were just a rather large bird that fell into the pool."

Rory shrivels her nose in a cute way with her mahogany hair plastered to her forehead. Jess wants to push out of the way. He ignores the feeling to jump right in with her. "You think your boss's daughter looks like a dead bird?"

"I think she looks like an angel," he slips out sounding as if he said 'I love you'. He glances at the floor knowing the weight of what he said. Nine weeks of feelings like Jess's can wear you down and sometimes part of it needs to lean on the other person involved.

"Thank you," she finally says. Rory gets up out the pool hastily covering her metallic blue form. She turns to run away, but Jess block her path.

"Rory…"

"Thank you, Jess, I really…"

"Rory…" she stops at the undertone of urgency. "Forget I said that if it hurts you. If it didn't then…"

"I really liked Stars Hollow," she blurts out sitting on a pool chair.

Jess smiles wanly, "You've told me that at least a billion times since I saw you there."

"Well it's true. It's out of storybook. Where people are actually living in a time wormhole or something extravagant," she starts her ramble. It lasts for long minutes; Jess throwing in comments here and there (it's actually not a work day here for him. He worked yesterday), fueling her on. They move on finally to books, then movies, then fears, and lastly to explaining their quirks.

"In the seventh grade I was addicted to Lifesaver Mints. I used to save up my money just to go down to the drugstore and buy a bag," Jess says sitting on the pool chair opposite Rory, both of them laying back, looking to white clouds.

Rory's turn, "Well, when I was four, my mom says I went through a ravioli stage where all I would eat was ravioli. I'd cry if it wasn't."

"What kind?"

"The Chef Boyardi classic," she answers. She turns to Jess knowing it's time for him to leave. The grumble of her grandmother's car is approaching to the side of the house where she enters to surprise everyone and make sure that everything hasn't been destroyed since she was last there. Jess doesn't move, but looks up at her. There the sun goes again. Just having to make that halo of gold around her. Lighting up her blue eyes even in shadow. "Jess, um, my grandmother's here so you should go, but wait before you do, I want to say something."

"Ok," he pressed getting up so he was looking straight into her eyes.

"It didn't hurt me. I didn't forget, and," it rushed out of her, "I think you look like the devil in disguise." With that she left hurriedly, leaving Jess on the verge of laughing. He got the message.

---

Lights dance and glitter off of finally purchased champagne glasses, held in either strong, determined, un-calloused hands or delicate fingers in a gossamer hold, the wedding diamond competing with the glass in sparkle. Black dresses and fur coats. Suits and ties. The nimble laughter jumps from room to room, too light to be real, but hearty enough for the fact to be ignored. White, black, white, white keys of the piano play. Little pastries and dainty appetizers sit on polished silver plates waiting for the mouth to eat them carefully with diminutive bites.

A small sigh comes from tiny cherry red lips (secret sips of red wine stain, not lipstick) and an inconspicuous sweep of the locale by cerulean eyes, her back, against the wallpaper exposed in a plum dress, rubs against the slightly bumpy texture. A body nears and lips whisper in her ear, "Let's stop being a wallflower shall we?"

A bow of head and a raise of an arm to be pulled, signals that he lead on. He takes her hand, soft he notices, un-worked except the very edge of her fingertips. He fingers the roughness and remembers it is because she reads so much. That, he decides, is something she needs to do less of. He wants her to enjoy herself a little more.

Nods here and there. Handshakes with big, plastered grins for an occasion no one knows about. Just another social gathering for the wealthy to flaunt their wealth and obtain a free meal. Cheers to that. The night is wearing on her, and her rosy cheeks begin to fade. She longs for the coffee, the sweet gazebo, and the boy who lives there unwillingly. He'd know how to make this fun. She glances up at her boyfriend who talking about something she had no interest in, to a man whose name she'd forgotten the second after he spoke it, and notices he's actually enjoys this. Plus he has a friend at the bar that keeps the goods coming. She can tell he had some to drink, with his sickly sweet breath and reddening ears that try to hide under blonde hair.

She looks around; his arm wrapped around her waist, catching her reflection in the golden mirror, one part of the perfect couple. The next generation of Richard and Emily, Lorelai and Christopher; Logan and Rory becoming the Gilmore code of excellence. It makes her sick. Like mother like daughter. She sees her mother across the room. Head held high, lyrics sung by Tommy Tutone in her mother's mind, the wish of being somewhere else. Another life even. Jenny's life would be nice. 867-5309, let's call her and ask.

Pulling at the Grecian design of her purple gown, she notices familiar dark eyes boring into her. The soft fabric fades away and she feels naked standing in affluence decay.

Rory tells Logan she'll be back and walks toward him. His eyes never stray, but his lips curve into the all-knowing smirk. Rory stands next to a flower arrangement, the sweet scent already making her woozy. She whispers, "What are you doing here?"

"I needed a little extra cash, and your mother asked me if I wanted to be a server," Jess whispers back. "You look nice tonight." Her face rushes scarlet and she wants to melt into the plush carpeting. He notices, but doesn't want to make her embarrassment worse. Only, it's true. The dress hugs curves in a reserved way, the rich color making her porcelain skin and daring blue eyes pop, so that she is a canvas of color. How anyone could keep their eyes on anything but her was beyond him.

"Thank you."

"That your Mr. Darcy?"

"Logan, yes."

"Huh."

Rory doesn't say anything, but gives Jess a warning look. It breaks into a sweet smile. The two watch others mingle, eat, and dance, both of them wondering why they are there and the nearest escape route.

"So this is the life," he mutters.

Rory shakes her head. "Not as great as it appears to be. It's all a big hoax. A web of green backed lies."

"I never said it was great," he tells her. "Actually it seems to suck. No freedom. From what I've seen the times I've come to this house is slow death by suffocation and drowning."

"You were my breath of fresh air," she murmurs earnestly staring into chocolate eyes. He doesn't know how to answer that. He begins to fidget. "Sorry," she says as she turns to leave.

"Runaway."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay above the water. You don't have to go back under. Runaway," his voice is like a magnet reeling her in.

"Where too?"

"I don't know! New York, Boston," his eyes light up, "Stars Hollow?"

Rory's feels herself smile, but her head is numb with possibility. Not just for her but… "My mom liked it there. I wouldn't leave without her. Stars Hollow. I think--"

A lazy arm wrapped around her pulling her in to a body. Glares and sharp words were sent to Jess, "Ace, I don't believe Emily would like you talking to the help."

"It's fine Logan," Rory tells him pulling away to unconsciously stand by the other boy. Jess doesn't say anything.

"Ace," he warns, "We have to go back. Richard is going to ask us something about our future."

"No, Logan."

"Why not?"

Rory takes a deep breath and tries to make light of the recurring symbol of her life, "I'm drowning Logan and you're one of the hands keeping me under. I'm sorry Logan, but get off me."

Logan's face puffed red and sharp inhale of air came from Jess, "Your grandfather is going to want to know about this. He wants to ask us to make promises of love and promises of marriage. You can't do this to them."

"They can't do this to me," she says her voice rises a little. "Logan, go away. You're not my Mr. Darcy. Not my Rhett Butler. Not even my Fred/Paul. Along with that last reference, you're not even my Cat."

"Fine," Logan spat.

Jess finally spoke after watching the blonde boy turn and saunter to the bar, "My Cat?"

"Blame my mother. All those classic romantic movies nights."

"So…"

"So…"

"I should actually work. Your grandmother noticed you and Logan are apart and she is now staring daggers at me."

Rory glances over her shoulder to see her grandmother was in fact looking like she was going to have a heart attack. The Cause: Respectable Logan is downing them and Lovely Rory is conversing with a handsome worker. It was all too much. "Painful death. Bye Jess."

"Bye Rory."

---

Emily struts from room to room in search of her daughter and granddaughter. Maids scurry past her, arms full of empty champagne glasses, the luster gone with the jolly guests. The older woman's face is contorted with rage so boiling she can't contain herself. Thoughts jumble in her head, _I must find Richard and tell him… Lorelai's influence on that girl has caused her to have a lapse of judgment... I do hate that Flora Campbell… How could Rory just leave poor Logan just before we revealed our plans for their future… It was that pool boy's fault. _

She walks into the dining room almost colliding into husband who is clutching a piece of paper and gazing at it as if it was his ticket to hell. Pain was evident on his face. Emily gives a light scoff and chides him for acting so foolish when she can't find either of the causes of her migraines. She snatches the paper away from and scans it, slowing down as she feels the impact of the words.

_Dear Dad, Mom, & Chris __**(Grandpa, Grandma, & Dad)**_

_We are so sorry for leaving so suddenly. _

_---_

"Hurry!" Lorelai whispers.

"I am!" mutters Rory.

Lorelai flings things into suitcases. Clothes, pictures, shoes, movies; anything worth of sentimental value is stuffed into pastel pink bags. They want to start anew. "We just need to go before the parents catch wind of this. We can't waste anytime."

Mirroring her mother's actions Rory flies to the other room and grabs her favorite books. The others she knows she will get later. She runs back and dumps them on the bed. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Lorelai pauses a bit. She grabs her daughter by the shoulders and they face each other. "Sweetie, I've been waiting to leave this prison my mother bought and picked out for me for years. That town, Stars Hollow, it has something special to it. I'm not just talking about the chiming doors. No. Rory, babe, there is freedom and weirdness. We'd fit in. I'm ready. You're ready. We're supposed to do this!"

Rory stares into her mother's finding hope and happiness. She gives a half smile. "Let's hurry."

---

_**We know a note doesn't suffice for a goodbye, but we'll be back. **__Not to stay. __**No, never to stay, but to visit, and get a few things. My mom and I really want, wait, need this. We need freedom. We've been drowning. **__For a long time. __**It's not that we don't love you. Don't ever think that. **__No don't ever think that. I'm sorry I was never your trophy daughter or wife, but that isn't me. I had a kid at sixteen! I can't hide that. I can't see you be ashamed of it anymore. _

**---**

"What about Dad?" asks Rory lugging one of the many packed bags.

"What about Bob?"

"Mom…"

Lorelai closes the back of her husband's Hummer, "Your dad and I used to love each other. Now…now he wouldn't even notice I'm gone. I think that I am going to divorce him," she glances worriedly at her kid, "How do feel about that?"

"You'd look cute with that guy from the diner. What's his name? Luke?" Rory says giving her mother her opinion.

"Duke," Lorelai grins.

---

_Chris, I feel like our love has become this tiny string that you can pull apart. I wish it were different really. _

_**Dad, I'll miss you. **_

_**Don't come after us. **__Yea. __**We'll be safe. **__No city slums. __**Mom can get a job. **__I'll start at the bottom and move to the top. __**As long as we are together we'll do just fine. **_

---

"Lorelai!" The girls huddle behind a door waiting for the figure to pass. Emily's face signaling the fact that it's best not to be seen. She doesn't see them, and once she is out of sight they pop out.

"Let's go!"

"To the get away car!"

---

_If you truly want the best for us, then this is it. Let us go, because we're already gone. _

_**Love you all,**_

_**Lorelai Leigh Gilmore-Hayden **_

_Lorelai Victoria Gilmore-Hayden_

Emily snaps out of trance and immediately runs to the parking garage where all the cars are kept. Praying to a God she usually rebukes she opens the heavy door. There should be twelve cars. One, two, three, oh God, number four was missing. A beautiful, roomy, navy Hummer was missing from its spot. She still searches for explanations. Chris! Chris took it.

"Emily! Did you read this?" shouts a voice coming from the house.

The poor woman lowers herself on the hood of the nearest Lexus. Her eyes and cheeks are unfamiliar with wet drops. Chris comes running in with the now wrinkled note. He curses when he sees they've left. He kicks the wall. If only he had…what?

Last, Richard comes slowly in somber as ever. He announces that it's best they leave them be for the time being. So there it is. They do nothing. Except plan the next banquet where they will have to have a plausible story to cover up the runaways.

They stare at the gas stained floor, the light of the moon eerily coming in through a stained window, blue, covering them and their surroundings. It's their turn to drown.

---

"So this is it," Lorelai says her voice hushed.

"This is it," Rory replies staring out the window to a diner door that reads closed, but lights are on with the diner man sitting on chair, feet propped, drinking a beer and watching something on an itsy-bitsy TV. "Ready?"

"The other choice is going back. Really, our luck that the day we decide to become little rebels, the only inn to house us in our new home is lacking in staff and the whole place is filled up because of some stupid Beatles remembrance convention. This man is our only hope. It is our luck he has nothing better to do then sit in his diner at 10 o' clock at night. He can give us coffee and then beds," she rambles logically.

Rory opens the door, "Well, then, let's go."

Both girls get out and cross the street without looking both ways. They run up to the white door and knock. The man, Luke, looks up startled. Recognition crosses his face and a smile almost falls on his lips. He shouts to them, "I'm closed!"

"Are you closed to two homeless, helpless beautiful girls that would die by dawn in these terrible streets of crime and R-rated movie themes?" Lorelai chirps. Luke, unable to turn down two pairs of baby blues, gets up and let's them in.

"Homeless?"

"Don't forget helpless."

"There's an inn down by…"

"Closed for John, Paul, George, and Ringo."

"Oh yea. Idiotic conventions planned by none other than Taylor."

"Please?"

"Geez,"

"Look into my daughters eyes. Come on Rory! Turn on the waterworks"

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Do want me to say no?"

Rory jumps in at this, "No!"

Luke looks between them and nods toward a doorway by the counter, "Ok then come on. I'll get you all set up."

"Don't we have to go to your house?" asks Lorelai. Luke just points up and Lorelai gives a little comedic gasp. "He lives in his diner."

The now famous bells jingle and the door slams. A rather compact figure hastily approaches the diner man. "Luke!" Jess yells enraged, "Luke, did you know that Taylor has banned me from my bridge! He says that I am polluting the water with my cigarettes."

"Maybe if you stopped smoking…"

"Like hell."

"Don't swear in front of guests."

"Guests?" Jess swerves around to face the surprised women. "Rory," he murmurs. Rory doesn't say anything, but gives him a timid smile. They stare at each other. Lorelai gives a little cough.

"Uh, Jess, this is my mom Lorelai," she stutters.

Lorelai holds out a hand, "We've met. Employee."

"Oh about that. I quit."

The elder Gilmore gives a little grin, "Yea you might want to, because you are the one that inspired our little escape."

"Escape?" asks Luke.

"Yea about that…" Lorelai starts. "Let's talk about it tomorrow. Now, Lorelai very sleepy after pulling free from the evil clutches of the wicked witch."

"Sure," the man says. "Come on." He and Lorelai go upstairs.

---

They sit for a while across from each other, the white formica counter a nice thing to inspect. Little mumbles are uttered and silent coughs are pushed into crooked arms. Every thing is upstairs with Luke and Lorelai whom are talking (or Lorelai is talking) about random thing: open jobs, living arrangements, for sale homes, and other important details. Downstairs, on the other hand, is silent.

"You came."

"I said I would."

"I didn't believe you."

Pause. "If I said I am glad I am here, would you believe that?"

No pause. "Of course."

"Good."

The night is blue, navy and inky together. The gray clouds light against dark, and when the sun rises, a new day will begin with fresh air to be inhaled. There is no more drowning.

---

Review please! Like it? Hate it? I'd love to hear from you.

Peace, Love, & Rock n' Roll,

Mira Nicole


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